


Reed Family Christmas

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-19
Updated: 2006-03-18
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Malcolm takes Trip to meet his family for Christmas. (03/05/2003)





	1. November

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Written January 2003. Many thanks to MEGA Goddess Ginny for acting as beta. And to Dragoncait, who asked for stories about Trip taking Malcolm home for the holidays. I didn't feel up to writing 'Southern' for a whole tribe of Tuckers, but I do think I'm qualified to write about the peculiar joys and traditions of the of the British family Christmas, so I turned the story around.  
  
Beta: Ginny  


* * *

> 'All happy families resemble each other, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.'
> 
> â€”Leo Tolstoy, _Anna Karenina_  
> 

'What'ya reading?' Trip Tucker stood behind his partner, hands resting lightly on Malcolm Reed's shoulders. They were back on _Enterprise_ catching up on the progress of the refit having spent Thanksgiving with Trip's family.

'It's a letter from Aunt Sherry. She's inviting us for Christmas.'

'Aunt Sherry. She's the one you like, yeah?'

'Yes. I spent a lot of the holidays at her place when I was at school and my father was at sea or whatever. She's a good stick.'

'Great. So Christmas at Aunt Sherry's then.'

'Shit.' Tucker leaned forward trying to see what had caused the expletive. 'Shit.' Malcolm repeated. 'We're not going.'

'Why not?'

'It's not just us she's invited, it's the whole bloody family. Aunts, uncles, cousins. My parents. We're not going.'

'Whoa there, Malcolm,' Trip protested. 'I'd like to meet your family.'

'No you bloody well wouldn't.'

'Yes I would. Come on, Malcolm. You've just met most of my lot. I want to meet yours.'

'You don't know them,' Malcolm muttered with feeling.

'Exactly my point. How bad can they be?' Tucker laughed when his partner shuddered.

'You have no idea. Anyway, your mother's expecting us isn't she?'

'Well, she invited us certainly, but she'll understand. We were with my family for Thanksgiving. It's only fair we're with yours for Christmas. If everyone's invited that means Maddy'll be there, right? So that's one friendly face at least.'

Malcolm leaned back, resting his head against Trip's chest. 'You really want to go?'

'Yeah. See Maddy again, meet Aunt Sherry. Meet your parents. I know, I know,' he went on when Malcolm sighed, 'but I really would like to meet your parents. They're part of what made you who you are, y'know? I'd just like to finally meet them.'

'Fine,' Malcolm capitulated. 'If you're sure, I'll let Aunt Sherry know we'll be there.


	2. Christmas Eve

As Chief Engineer on the _Enterprise_ , Commander Charles Tucker III had experienced some pretty hairy moments, but nothing that had happened shipboard had prepared him for being driven by his partner, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed along narrow, twisting and steep snow covered Welsh roads. Lieutenant Reed viewed driving in much the same way he did his duties on _Enterprise_ ; something to be done with professional efficiency, and as quickly as possible.

'Geez, Malcolm,' Trip exclaimed as they negotiated a hairpin bend, brooding fir trees to one side, a fifteen metre drop to the other. 'Are you sure we should be driving?'

'Ten centimetres of snow, Trip. Ten centimetres. It's not exactly enough to bring the country to a standstill.'

'I thought you Brits didn't have white Christmases any more. That this sort of thing went out years ago.'

'If only. Unfortunately the movement of the Gulf Stream last century meant that our winters are getting more severe. Llangedwyn's on the same latitude as Newfoundland don't forget. You have to expect a little snow. Ah, here we are.' Malcolm turned their car in through a pair of imposing gates then pulled to a standstill. 'You're sure you want to go through with this?'

'You make them sound like a Suliban torture squad or somethin'. It's your family, Malcolm'

'My familyâ€”Suliban torture squad. Suliban torture squadâ€”my family.' Malcolm mimed weighing his options.

Trip wrapped a hand round his partner's neck and pulled him into a kiss. 'Hey, if it's dreadful, we'll leave. OK?' And when Malcolm nodded he continued, 'So get drivin' then. I'm freezing my balls off here.'

'Well, I certainly wouldn't want that,' Malcolm smiled.

* * *

Plas Maen was an imposing building. Originally a Welsh longhouse, it had been added to and extended over the centuries in a variety of styles until now it was a rambling two-storey structure with a squat tower at one end. Malcolm parked their hired car in the rear courtyard and by the time they'd got out, stretched limbs cramped from the long drive and pulled their luggage from the back seat a tall slender woman was trotting across the yard towards them. As she neared them Trip could see that she wasn't as young as he'd initially thought, and that the rather startling red hair wasn't natural. She was dressed in a tweed skirt, knitted twin set, pearl necklace and sensible shoes, a style Trip had thought only existed in British historical fiction.

'Malcolm, darling,' she called, waving an almost empty wineglass in their direction. 'Thank goodness you're here.' Reaching them she enveloped Malcolm in a hug, which he happily returned, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

'Hello, Aunt Sherry,' Malcolm grinned at her, relieving her of the wineglass as she turned her attentions to Trip.

'And you must be Trip.'

'Yes, ma'am,' he confirmed.

'Oh please, don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel so old. It's Sherry, dear.' She hugged Trip then, smiling at Malcolm, said, 'Very nice, dear. You always did have good taste.' Before he could respond she'd turned back to a rather startled Trip. 'You're very welcome here, Trip. I want to let you know that now, just in case you start to doubt it when you meet the rest of us.' She turned again to Malcolm and retrieved her wineglass. 'Your parents arrived an hour ago, and this is my second glass already. Now listen, Malcolm. I've put you and Trip in the solar. That's the tower,' she explained for Trip's benefit, waving vaguely in its direction. 'It's private and it's the only bedroom apart from mine that's en suite. Your parents usually have it and as you can imagine your father's not happy. Don't whatever you do let him talk you into giving it up.' With that Aunt Sherry led the way indoors via the kitchen entrance. She stopped to check on something in the oven, while the two men went through to the corridor leading to the formal entrance hall. There they met Malcolm's sister Madeline who gave both her brother and Trip a hug and a kiss.

'It's lovely to see you both again. Three years with nothing but the occasional message and now we're together twice in a month. You're the last of the houseguests to arrive,' she continued as they walked, 'other than Angie. Aunt Margaret and Uncle Philip have taken their dog for a walk, I think, and Uncle Archie and Aunt Caroline are up in their room. Mother and Daddy are in the living room. We saw your car from the window so they know you're here. Malcolm, Daddy's being stupid about not having the solar room, you know what he's like.' Malcolm grimaced and she patted his arm. 'You can shut yourselves off in the solar,' she continued to Trip, 'when the family gets too much. That's why Aunt Sherry thought you should have it. That and the private bathroom. Since you're her guest of honour.' Trip gave a snort of laughter. 'So, Malcolm, don't let Daddy persuade you into swapping,' she ordered.

They were approaching the living room so there was no opportunity for Trip to comment, but he found it interesting that both his aunt and sister had felt the need to tell Malcolm not to give in to his father's desire to change rooms. Presumably they both believed there was a real possibility that he would do so. Already he was getting hints of a different side to his partner.

They reached the living room. Malcolm paused and took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as if in prayer, then opened the door.

Trip had seen pictures of Stuart and Mary Reed, but he was still surprised meeting them for the first time how little either of them resembled their children. Mary was fiddling with the decorations on a rather over-dressed Christmas tree that stood in the room's bay window. As they entered she cast a quick glance at her husband then came over to meet them, gripping Malcolm's arm and kissing him on the cheek.

'Hello, Mother.' He smiled at her then looked up and met his father's eyes. Stuart Reed was ensconced in an armchair by the blazing fire and looked at his son without getting up. 'Sir,' Malcolm offered.

'Malcolm,' was the only response.

'Mother, Farther,' Malcolm ploughed on, 'this is Commander Charles Tucker, Trip. My partner.'

'Hello, Trip,' Mary Reed said. 'We've heard a lot about you from Madeline. And from Malcolm of course,' she added. 'It's very nice to meet you.'

'You too, ma'am,' Trip responded. 'I've been looking forward to meeting Malcolm's parents.'

Trip walked over to Stuart Reed and reached out, offering to shake hands. After a brief but noticeable pause Malcolm's father stood and shook Trip's hand.

'Charles,' he said. Trip opened his mouth to speak, but sensing what he was about to say Stuart continued. 'I abominate nicknames, they're the sign of a lazy mind. But I am glad to finally meet one of Malcolm's friends.'

'Thank you, sir,' Trip said, determined not to let the less than enthusiastic welcome put him off.

'Sherry says dinner will be at six,' Mary said stepping into the rather awkward pause, 'and I expect you two will want to freshen up before then.'

'Malcolm, I wantedâ€¦' Stuart Reed started.

Trip turned back to Malcolm's mother as though he hadn't heard her husband speak. Letting his accent thicken he turned on the full force of his Southern charm. 'Ah'm real pleased to be here in this lovely historic house, Mrs. Reed,' he gushed. 'An' Malcolm's Aunt Sherry says she's put us in the tower room. You gotta know just how excitin' that is for me. Why this whole place is older than jus' about anythin' we've got at home. To be sleepin' in a real live tower is jus' the icin' on the cake.'

'Oh, you'll love it,' Mary Reed agreed, though whether she saw through her son's sudden coughing fit or his own subterfuge Trip couldn't tell. 'The views across the hills are lovely.'

'Let me take you up there,' Madeline said, seizing her opportunity. As soon as they were in the hall, the living room door safely closed, she said, 'You are incorrigible, Charles Tucker.'

Trip laughed at her and as they picked up their bags from where they'd left them at the foot of the stairs gave Malcolm quick hug and a wink.

* * *

Finally they were alone in the solar bedroom. Trip stood at one of the two long windows, watching the last of the sunlight through the branches of a massive yew tree. 'Your mother was right,' he said. 'The view is wonderful.'

Malcolm moved across the room to stand behind him, winding his arms round his lover's waist. 'Maddy was right too,' he said. 'You are incorrigible, Charles Tucker. Did you really think I would give up our room?'

Trip turned round in the circle of his arms to face him. 'Didn't want you put in an awkward situation when we've only just arrived. Are you mad?'

'No.'

Trip kissed him gently on the forehead, then with a calculating look in his eye ran the fingers of one hand through Malcolm's hair.

'I am now,' Malcolm said, trying to move his head out of Trip's reach.

'Thought I was allowed,' Trip said, doing it again.

'Only when we're in bed,' Malcolm flapped Trip's hand away.

'Then I'm allowed.' Trip moved his hand from Malcolm's hair to the back of his neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

'Dinner,' Malcolm began when Trip broke off the kiss.

'Is over an hour away.' Trip planted a row of quick kisses along his jaw-line then nipped sharply at an earlobe, eliciting an almost inaudible whimper in response.

'We're supposed to be freshening up,' Malcolm protested half-heartedly.

'No point in freshening up unless you're seriously un-fresh to begin with,' Trip reasoned, undoing the top buttons on Malcolm's shirt to allow his mouth better access to the enticing neck within.

'Trip!' Since Malcolm was now busily engaged in dragging Trip's shirt out of his jeans Trip figured this last wasn't protest at all.

Gently but firmly Trip pushed Malcolm backwards until the back of his knees met the edge of the bed and he sat down abruptly on the paisley quilt. Insinuating one of his own knees between Malcolm's legs Trip moved them apart and knelt between them. Reaching up he slid his hands under his lover's shirt and undershirt and pushed them up round his neck, trapping his arms inside them. Leaving Malcolm to free himself from the garments Trip turned his attention to the exposed torso. Trailing fingers and mouth over the well-loved flesh, caressing, biting, kissing. Outlining muscles, diving into the navel, circling the hardening nipples, before finally taking one of the rosy nubs of flesh into his mouth and suckling hard. Malcolm's response to this onslaught was to mumble unintelligibly, possibly because of the clothing still wrapped around his head and arms. Taking pity on him, Trip stopped what he was doing long enough to help Malcolm by undoing a few more buttons. Then hindered him again by pushing him flat on the bed and swooping to nibble at the base of his throat.

Finally freeing himself, Malcolm caught hold of Trip by the hair and dragged him up until their mouths met in a fierce invasive kiss. Maintaining mouth to mouth contact, but holding Trip now under the armpits, Malcolm tried to squirm both of them further on to the bed.

Trip finally broke off the kiss, laughing. 'This isn't going to work, darlin'. Let's rearrange ourselves.' They kicked off their shoes and Trip climbed onto the bed, Malcolm slithering over the join him. 'An' we've both still got far to many clothes on.' Trip pulled his own sweater and shirt over his head and cast them to one side. 'That evens things up at any rate.' He reached for the fastening on Malcolm's trousers. 'No, let me do it,' he said, slapping the other man's hands away. He undid the button then slowly slid the zip down, savouring the feel of Malcolm's erection pressing urgently against the fabric. Sliding his hands inside both trousers and underpants he tugged them down, lifting the other man's hips from the bed to do so. He manoeuvred the garments down as far as Malcolm's knees and straddled his lover's legs, pausing to admire the view. Then leaning forward, Trip grasped Malcolm's rigid cock in one hand and bent his head to swirl his tongue round its sensitive tip. Malcolm drew in a ragged breath and his hips bucked, causing Trip to place his free arm across his love's pelvis, resting his weight there, restricting movement. At the same time Trip closed his lips around the tip of Malcolm's penis and, inch by slow inch, took the whole of it into his mouth. Slowly Trip bobbed his head, sliding Malcolm's shaft in and out of his mouth, his tongue circling and exploring as he did so. Not pausing in his mouth-work, Trip shifted his position so that his weight was resting on one elbow. Moving his free hand to his lover's balls he gently massaged them in their sack.

Malcolm, panting, reached down and tangled his fingers in Trip's hair, stopping the motion of his head. 'Trip,' he gasped. 'I want you inside me, need you. Please.'

Trip stopped what he was doing and, pulling himself up Malcolm's body, kissed him hard. 'Stay there,' he ordered. 'Don't move a muscle.'

Slipping off the bed Trip hunted in their luggage, found the lubricant he was looking for and dropped it on the quilt, before stripping off the remainder of his clothes. Malcolm, disobediently, turned his head to watch, his tongue flickering out to moisten suddenly dry lips as Trip pulled off his underpants, releasing the straining cock within. Clambering back onto the bed, Trip finished stripping his lover then settled himself between Malcolm's raised knees.

Squeezing a generous quantity of lubricant onto his palm, Trip let the cool, slick gel coat the fingers of his right hand. Malcolm lifted a leg onto Trip's shoulder, allowing him better access, then pressed his head into the bed with a soft moan as one of Trip's fingers slipped between the cheeks of his arse and entered him. Trip waited until Malcolm relaxed then added a second finger, and then a third, gently stretching and preparing his lover. He watched as Malcolm, eyes dilated with passion, breath coming in irregular pants, clutched at the bedclothes and gyrated his hips against Trip's hand, hot and ready, asking for more.

'Whadya' want, Mal?' he asked, desire thickening his accent. 'Tell me what ya want me to do to ya.'

'I want you inside me, Trip.' Malcolm closed his eyes as he panted out his desires to his lover. 'Want your prick filling me. Slow. Oh, slow at first.' He moaned as Trip carried out his instructions, positioning himself at Malcolm's eager opening and, resisting the temptation to slam home, slowly penetrating his lover. Malcolm wrapped his legs round Trip's waist, drawing him in. 'Now hard, Trip. Please. Just fuck me hard. Want to feel you, hear you shout my name. Just want you, luv.'

Trip started to thrust, slowly at first, then, at his lover's importuning, harder and faster. He wormed one of his hands between their two bodies and grasped Malcolm's erection.

Oh, god, that's good,' Malcolm breathed as Trip fucked him, cock and hand pumping in sync. 'Yes. Oh, god. Oh.'

Trip pounded hard, his balls slapping against his lover's arse as Malcolm writhed under him, voice becoming less and less coherent as he neared his climax. Trip was close himself. As Malcolm's voice trailed off, Trip took over.

'Yes,' he grunted. 'Yes. Yes. Yes.' Then Malcolm came, semen spurting through Trip's fingers and on to both their bellies. His lover's climax sent Trip over the edge. 'Yes, Mal. Malcolm. Oh, Malcolm. MALCOLM.' Trip shuddered to completion, shouting his love's name, as requested. As he always did. Pumping out every last drop of his seed, before collapsing on top of Malcolm as they both lay, panting and trembling, waiting for calm to return to their satiated bodies.

Feeling himself soften and begin to slide out of his partner, Trip scrambled off the bed and padded over to the bathroom for a towel. Returning, he cleaned up the two of them and dabbed at the stickiness on the quilt. 'Won't do to ruin the bedclothes,' he joked.

'I'm sure Aunt Sherry will cope.' Malcolm grinned at him. 'I'm really glad she gave us this room though.' Trip looked a question at him. 'I'd hate to have you yelling and shouting like that with any of my relatives the other side of the bedroom wall.'

'Hey, you'd'a just had to figure out a way to keep me quiet.' Malcolm leaned over and kissed him. 'That'd be one way,' Trip grinned. 'But before you decide to demonstrate your extensive repertoire I think I should point out that dinner is only 25 minutes away. An' now we really are in need of serious freshenin' up.'

* * *

At exactly six o'clock the two of them, showered and dressed, though with their hair still damp, had just descended the stairs from the solar and were making their way along the corridor to the main staircase. They could hear voices in front of them and the yapping of a small dog. Suddenly there was a woman's scream and a thud, followed by raised voices, both male and female.

Trip and Malcolm ran to the head of the stairs to me met by confusion. Two middle-aged couples Trip didn't recognise were at the top of the stairs, one of the women clutching a Jack Russell terrier to her bosom. Aunt Sherry was lying still and quiet at the foot of the stairs with Stuart Reed kneeling besides her.

'Don't try to move her,' Malcolm ordered, bounding down the stairs.

Following hard on his heels, Trip found time to notice that the emergency had brought out the Starfleet officer in Malcolm, and that Starfleet Malcolm had no compunction in ordering his father about.

As they reached her it became clear that Aunt Sherry wasn't unconscious, as they'd feared, but winded. She struggled into a sitting position with both Malcolm and Stuart Reed helping her.

'Fell over Margaret's damned dog,' she explained 'How stupid is that? Help me up,' she commanded.

'Hold on, Aunt Sherry,' Malcolm said. 'Let's check you're all right first.'

'Of course I am,' she said trying to climb to her feet. With a cry of pain she sank back to the floor. 'Or maybe not,' she conceded. 'There seems to be something wrong with my leg.'

Aunt Sherry was made as comfortable as possible and an ambulance called. During the 20 minutes it took to arrive Malcolm and Trip sat with her, though Aunt Sherry insisted that the others go on with dinner. 'To stop them flapping around me,' she admitted. Madeline did provide her brother and Trip with a bowl of soup each, but refused to let Aunt Sherry eat anything.

Malcolm and Trip followed the ambulance to Shrewsbury Hospital where it was eventually decided that Aunt Sherry had a hairline fracture of her left tibia. To her disgust the doctor insisted on admitting her for observation, because of her age. Malcolm and Trip stayed to see her settled then said their goodbyes, promising to visit the following evening.

* * *

It was nearly 10 o'clock by the time Malcolm once more pulled into the yard and parked alongside a new arrival, a sleek, red, sports car. The snow had stopped falling and the sky was a blaze of frost-hardened stars. Trip climbed out of their car and circled the new vehicle peering at the details of its retro styling and gleaming chrome in the subdued glow from the yard lights.

'Wow,' he breathed admiringly. 'A Morgan two-seater. Looks like someone in your family has taste after all.'

'Thanks!'

'Someone else, I mean. Know you've got taste. Chose me, didn't you? So, whose is this then?'

'My cousin Angie's, I expect. She always did like fast things.'

'Angie, right. Did I meet her parents earlier?'

'No. Uncle Paul's my father's brother. He's on posting so he and Aunt Liz couldn't come,' Malcolm explained. 'He's in the Royal Navy. So is Angie,' he added. 'Following the Reed tradition. The only one of our generation to do so, so she's in everyone's good books,' he finished sourly.

'Sounds like Angie ain't your favourite cousin.'

'I hated her guts when we were kids. She's three years older than me, and a bully. She's one of the people my father enlisted to try and change my mind about joining the Navy. Thingsâ€”didn't go well'

'You got any relatives you haven't pissed off one way or another?' Trip asked, smiling at his partner to take the sting out of the words.

'Not many. That's the one Reed tradition I did follow, pissing people off,' Malcolm smiled back at him rather sadly. 'If you've quite finished drooling over the Morgan I suggest we go in. I'm starting to feel like I'm back on that bloody shuttlepod out here.'

* * *

They made their way indoors and joined the rest of the party in the living room. Malcolm's parents, aunts and uncles were all sitting round a table, engaged in a card game. The Jack Russell ran to meet them, yapping excitedly and getting under their feet.

'Good god, Margaret, can't you keep that animal under control?' Stuart Reed asked. 'It's already tripped up one person today.' As Margaret bustled over and scooped the dog up, carrying it back to her chair and scolding as if it were a recalcitrant child, he addressed himself to his son. 'Well, Malcolm, how is Sherry?' Following Malcolm's explanation he muttered, 'Fool woman. Invites everyone here then goes and breaks her leg. Now what are we going to do?' he asked, as if the fall had been his sister's fault.

'Oh dear,' his wife said. 'Poor Sherry. Well I suppose that means I'll have to look after lunch tomorrow. Yes, that'll be the best idea. It'll be just like the old days,' she added, brightening, 'me cooking Christmas lunch for all of us, won't it?'

'Yes, Mother, I rather expect it will,' Malcolm said dryly.

Turning to Trip he asked quietly, 'Introductions were a bit rushed before, can you remember who everyone is?'

'Yeah, I think so. Margaret's your mother's sister, married to Philip, an' the other two are your mother's brother Archie and his wife Caroline. This is someone I haven't met before though,' he said as they walked over to the sofa by the fire where Maddy and another woman were sitting. The woman was about his own age, Trip noted, with Malcolm's blue-grey eyes, and dark hair, which she wore cropped short. As they approached, she stood and Trip could see that she was nearly as tall as Malcolm, slender, with an athletic grace in her movements. She and Malcolm were unmistakably related, in fact anyone who didn't know would be far more likely to pick her out as Malcolm's sister, than Maddy.

'Hello, Malcolm,' she said, not offering him any contact. 'What a pleasure it is to see you again. The trusty Starfleet officer returned to his clan. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?'

'Hello, Angie,' Malcolm replied.

Trip watched the two cousins. He'd gathered in the yard that Malcolm wasn't fond of his cousin Angie, but seeing them together, there was more than just a lack of fondness. Malcolm was standing stiff and reserved at his side, with the same look on his face he got when Trip or the Captain had done something against their armoury officer's advice, very correct but letting his tightly reined displeasure show. Angie on the other hand was relaxed, poised, confident, smiling. Only the slight sneer in her voice spoiled the picture.

'Trip, this is my cousin Angela,' Malcolm said. 'Angie, this is my partner, Charles Tucker.'

'Hello, Malcolm's partner, Charles Tucker,' Angie said, smiling at Trip and holding out a hand, which Trip took.

'Hello, Angela.'

'It's Angie,' she said. Trip noticed her dart at quick look at Malcolm before continuing, 'I'm the other Lieutenant Reed in the family. The one who did the Reed thing and joined the Royal Navy.'

'And I'm Trip,' he replied easily. 'An' since I'm a Commander I outrank you both.'

Angie laughed and was about to reply when Maddy asked, 'Are you two hungry? We could go to the kitchen and sort out some sandwiches.'

'Now that's what I call a good idea,' Trip said. 'One bowl a soup, good though it was, didn' exactly fill me up.'

As Maddy started to lead Trip and her brother out of the room Angie put a retaining hand on Trip's arm. 'There's no point in all three of you going. You'll only get in each other's way. Anyway it'll be cold in the kitchen. You and Malcolm go, Maddy. Trip can stay here in the warm and talk to me.' Noticing Trip hesitate and glance at Malcolm, she went on, 'Don't worry, Malcolm, I'm not going to seduce him the moment your back's turned.'

'Fine,' Malcolm said with a forced smile. 'Maddy and I'll go and make sandwiches.'

As the two of them left, Trip and Angie sat on the sofa.

'Malcolm tells me the Morgan we saw in the yard is yours. It sure is a beauty.'

'You like fast cars?' Angie asked.

'I'm an engineer. I like good engineering, an' a Morgan certainly qualifies there.'

'I love fast cars. Fast cars, fast men. We could take her for a spin one day if you like,' she offered, shifting a little closer to him and looking him straight in the eye.

Damn, she's flirting with me, Trip realised. Just been introduced as her cousin's, her male cousin's, partner and she's flirting with me.

'That'd be nice,' he smiled, testing his theory. 'How far d'ya think we could go?'

'As far as you like really,' she smiled, turning towards him and resting one arm along the back of the sofa behind his shoulder. 'We could head towards Anglesey.'

'We couldn't go all the way though.'

'I don't see why not,' she paused. 'Assuming Malcolm doesn't object.'

'Oh, don't you worry about Malcolm. He knows what I'm like when I find somethin' new to play with.'

'You don't think he'd mind then?' Trip was pretty sure she hadn't meant to let the trace of disappointment slip into her voice.

'Nothing to mind about, is there?' he said. 'Malcolm's my partner, Angie. A fast car's not goin' to change that.'

'I know that, Trip,' she laughed. 'I just enjoy teasing him, that's all.'

Not quite all, Trip thought, but he let the subject drop. 'So, tell me about the Royal Navy then. Why you joined, what your job is.'

They were still talking about the Navy when Maddy and Malcolm returned with sandwiches and beer.

At 11.30 Trip stretched and yawned and announced he was ready for his bed. Malcolm, who had driven them from Manchester and then to Shrewsbury and back, was also looking tired. They made their excuses to Maddy and Angie, said goodnight to the rest of the party and made their way back up to the solar bedroom.


	3. Christmas Day

Christmas morning dawned bright and crisp. The rolling Welsh hills looked sublimely picturesque under their blanket of sparkling snow and the sun hung low and bright in the cold blue of the sky.

Malcolm was cutting wood for the living room fire while Trip and Maddy were in the garden looking for berried holly for a table decoration.

'Maddy, d'ya know what gives with Malcolm and Angie?'

'Perhaps you should ask Malcolm that,' she replied warily.

'Aw, I'm not asking for family secrets, Maddy. But he seems to really dislike Angie. I didn't want to say anything to Malcolm in case it upset him. I just wondered why.'

'They've always disliked each other,' Maddy said, deciding to explain, as far as she could. 'I mean, Angie was never easy to get on with, but she and Malcolm really hate each other. When we were children we spent most of the school holidays together, sailing with our parents usually, or here. Angie's father's in the Navy and she lived with her aunt in Liverpool for years, so as not to interrupt her schooling. Malcolm and I were at boarding schools and Angie thought that made us superior, better, somehow. Or maybe she thought we thought we were better, I'm not sure. She's the eldest and used to try and take charge of our games, that sort of thing. If we wouldn't do what she wanted she took revenge. She was a bully, still is, I think.'

'She's definitely strange. She was flirtin' with me last night, while you and Malcolm were in the kitchen, an' I'm pretty sure she meant it.'

'That doesn't surprise me really. She'd do just about anything if she thought it would upset Malcolm. He and Angie had a huge row when Daddy asked her to try and persuade him to join the Navy. She's been nasty about Malcolm ever since.'

'Why?'

'I'm not sure. I expect she was just annoyed that she couldn't bully him into doing what she wanted any more. That he fought back. She always picked on Malcolm because she knew he wouldn't fight back.'

'He wouldn't?' That didn't sound like his Malcolm.

'Reed men don't fight with ladies,' she said in a prim impersonation of her father. 'He's had that, and things like that, drummed unto him all his life, and been punished when he slipped up. So however nasty she was, he let her get away with it. She actually pushed him in the river once. We were getting our boat ready and Angie deliberately pushed Malcolm off the jetty. He nearly drowned.'

'You're kiddin'?' Trip looked at her aghast. 'How old were they?'

'Malcolm was 12 I think, so that would make Angie 15.'

'So a 15-year-old pushes a child she knows is frightened of the water, she must 'a known that, right?'

Maddy nodded.

'She pushes him in the river. What happened?'

'Malcolm was terrified, panicking. The Tanat's a fast river, treacherous currants, he was being pulled under.' She shivered at the memory. 'Luckily two older friends were with us and they managed to fish him out. But he still wouldn't say anything to Angie, even when she started taunting him, calling him a baby because he was crying. In the end I lost my temper and I thumped her.'

'Good for you.'

'Yes,' she laughed. 'I actually broke her nose. Of course that just meant that all three of us got into trouble, but it was worth it.'

'I can see why Angie and you got into trouble, but what had Malcolm done wrong?'

'Ruined his clothes, not worn his safety jacket, not stood up for himself. Yes, I know,' she said as Trip started to object. 'Standing up for himself would have meant fighting with Angie, something a Reed man would never do. I know it doesn't make sense. I think that's been Malcolm's problem really, half of the things he had drummed into him as a child didn't make sense, so whatever he did he was likely to be in the wrong. It was easier for me, being younger and a girl, but Malcolm was always Daddy's hope for the future. He had Malcolm's life planned out for him. When Malcolm did finally put his foot down and stand up for what he wanted to do, instead of being proud of him Daddy was furious, didn't speak to him for ages. Another no-win situation.'

They'd collected all the holly Maddy wanted and started back towards the house when they saw Malcolm coming towards them.

'Mother's looking for you,' he told Maddy. 'She panicking in the kitchen. Something about gravy, I think. And the rest of the tribe has arrived. Two more cousins, their wives and four children,' he shuddered.

Trip laughed at him. 'Hey, I like kids,' he said.

'Not these, you won't. They've only been here five minutes and already some family heirloom's been broken and the tree almost knocked over.'

They spent the rest of the walk to the house with Maddy and Malcolm explaining who the new arrivals, who were staying at the nearby Wynnstay Arms, were and how they were related to the people Trip had already met.

* * *

By the time Trip had been introduced to everyone he'd decided to forget the relationships and just concentrate on the names. At Thanksgiving Malcolm had coped with 34 Tuckers of varying ages and managed to remember who nearly all of them were, but Trip found he was having difficulty with just 18 Reeds. That half of them called each other by a variety of pet names didn't help.

'Don't even try,' Malcolm advised as they changed before lunch. 'You're never going to meet most of them again. Just smile and nod as if you know who they're talking about. Anyway lunch, if it ever arrives, will take your mind off worrying about names.'

Lunch was supposed to be at one o'clock. It was already half past and Mary Reed was still at work in the kitchen with her daughter and her sister Margaret.

'I'm looking forward to lunch,' Trip protested. 'A real British Christmas lunch with all the trimmings, an' anyway, breakfast was a long time ago. I'm hungry enough to eat anything.'

Malcolm gave a hollow laugh. 'You might be sorry you said that. You've never had the pleasure of my mother's cooking. Catering for large numbers isn't her forte.'

* * *

They arrived downstairs to be greeted by Angie and the children chasing each other around the hall with sprigs of mistletoe, grabbing and kissing anyone they could catch. The two girls, Pauline and Helen made a beeline for Trip, approaching him one from either side and demanding that he give them 'proper kisses' because they were thirteen and twelve and almost grown up. Laughing he swept each of them into his arms in turn and planted big sloppy kisses on their foreheads. Then stood grinning as they moved in on their Uncle Malcolm and demanded the same from him.

'My turn now, I think,' a voice behind him said. Turning he found Angie only inches away from him, waving mistletoe over her head. Before he could give her the chaste kiss on the cheek he intended she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth at the same time pressing her body tightly against his.

'Put him down, Angie. You don't know where he's been.' Malcolm was trying for lightness but couldn't keep the edge out of his voice.

'Au contraire, I know exactly where he's been,' she said letting a contemptuous glance rake over Malcolm's body before turning to give Trip another kiss on the lips.

Trip disengaged her arms from round his neck. 'Yeah, an' where he's been is where he's stayin',' he told her with a smile. 'I think your fan club want you,' he added, as young Peter tugged at her jacket.

Angie grinned at him. 'Watch yourself, Trip,' she said, waggling the mistletoe at him as she turned to rejoin the children's game. 'I keep this about my person at all times when there are good looking men around.'

'God, she's a dreadful person,' Malcolm muttered.

'She is a bit much,' Trip agreed, slipping an arm round his waist. 'Come on, let's go see if there's any sign of food.'

* * *

Christmas lunch was served in Plas Maen's formal dining room at an ancient oak refectory table large enough to sit the whole party. Stuart Reed sat at one end of the table. The seat at the other end, Aunt Sherry's, was left empty. The other seventeen guests were arranged around the table in accordance with an esoteric seating plan devised by Mary Reed, whose notions of who should sit by whom were strict, if convoluted. Malcolm found himself opposite Trip with his cousin Colin's wife Linda on one side and her daughter Pauline on the other. Pauline's cousin Alan was next to her with Maddy next to him. Trip had Pauline's sister Helen on one side and her cousin Peter on the other, with Angie next to young Helen.

The meal started with asparagus soup that Aunt Sherry had made the previous day, it was good and raised expectations of what was to come. The turkey, when it was rolled in on a trolley, looked and smelled enticing. While Stuart Reed carved Mary, Margaret and Caroline carried in bowls of vegetables, jugs of gravy and platters of sausages and stuffing. Wine was put out for the adults and fruit juice for the children. Crackers were pulled, to make room on the table, and the children insisted that everyone wear their paper hats. Even Stuart Reed complied. Mary dished turkey slices onto plates that were then passed along the table to their recipients. Most people got what they were given but a few, apparently chosen at random, were asked what they wanted.

'Trip, are you a breast man?' Mary asked guilelessly.

Unfortunately Trip happened to catch Malcolm's eye as the question was posed and the two of them were reduced to choking back laughter while Malcolm's father glared at them down the length of the table. Pauline wanted to know what Uncle Malcolm was laughing at and he distracted her, and himself, with cracker jokes while Trip replied to Mary.

'Actually, ma'am, I prefer a nice leg,' Trip managed to say, which started Angie and Maddy laughing too. Mary, seemingly oblivious to all the hilarity, solemnly piled slices of turkey leg on Trip's plate.

Bowls were passed up and down the table while everyone helped themselves to roast potatoes and parsnips, carrots and sprouts. Trip looked rather doubtfully at the sprouts, soggy green balls intermixed with grey wrinkled lumps he couldn't identify.

'Chestnuts. Traditional with sprouts,' Malcolm informed him. 'Though I'm sure neither is meant to be boiled to mush,' he added quietly.

Angie passed Trip the gravy boat. 'It should be all right. Maddy strained most of the lumps out. The potatoes and parsnips are good; they're improved by overcooking. But the carrots look a bit on the raw side.' Trip gamely helped himself to some of everything.

'Do you want stuffing?'

Trip looked up to see Angie proffering a plate and eyeing him suggestively.

'Thanks.' Trip took the plate, served himself and the children on either side and decided to ignore the double entendre.

When eventually everyone had everything they wanted and glasses were charged, Stuart Reed stood and proposed a toast, wishing them all a Happy Christmas. It was the signal to begin eating.

Malcolm, with vivid memories of his mother's Christmas dinners, wasn't surprised to find the turkey dry and pretty much tasteless, the vegetables either over or under cooked and the gravy rather too thick and still slightly lumpy. Remembering the Thanksgiving dinner he had enjoyed with Trip's family, the succulent and flavourful turkey in particular, he watched with faint amusement as his partner tackled his food. Trip was concentrating on chewing a particularly tough piece of meat when he looked up and saw Malcolm watching him.

Giving a guilty start, Trip swallowed the meat and said, 'Nice meal. Er.' Unable to think of anything else, he stopped.

'Liar.' Malcolm mouthed, then he grinned and said, 'Eat up Trip, and you may be in time for seconds.'

Aunt Caroline, several seats away heard the exchange. 'Would you like some more, Trip?' she asked. 'There's plenty left.'

'No, thank you, ma'am. I'm savin' space for desert.'

'Oh yes, you should,' Aunt Caroline agreed. 'Sherry does make a good Christmas pudding. It's a pity she isn't here to make the white sauce,' she added with a doubtful look at her sister in law, Mary. 'But I'm sure it will be all right.'

'Oh, I'm sure it will,' Trip assured her. 'I'm lookin' forward to it,' he said, ignoring Malcolm's muffled snort.

Mary Reed, happily confident that everyone was enjoying the meal, joined the conversation. 'How is your first British Christmas lunch, Trip?' she asked. 'Is it anything like what you'd have at home?'

'No, Mrs. Reed. I think I can safely say, I've never had a meal quite like it,' Trip replied with feeling.

'I am glad you're enjoying yourself,' she went on. 'And there's still the pudding to come, and mince pies, and cheese for those who want it. And then of course games.'

'Games?' Trip queried doubtfully.

'Yes, it's a Reed tradition,' Angie supplied. 'Games after lunch. To tire the children out before present giving, and aid the digestion.'

'What sort a' games?'

The children joined in then, calling out the games they wanted to play. Under cover of the juvenile mayhem Malcolm reached his foot out, over the stretcher that ran the length of the table, and nudged Trip's leg. Trip responded by resting both his feet on the stretcher, enjoying Malcolm's feet running up and down his calves.

They were intent on each other and so didn't notice Angie watching them. She leaned down and whispered in Helen's ear. The youngster looked at her, an expression of gleeful childish surprise on her face, then ducked down to look under the table. Bobbing up again she excitedly tried to catch the attention of her cousin Peter on the other side of Trip, and her sister Pauline, opposite.

Then, since neither would pay attention to her, she announced in a high pitched, carrying voice, 'Uncle Malcolm's playing footsie with Trip under the table.'

There was a sudden hush, during which Trip and Malcolm hurriedly stopped 'playing footsie' and concentrated on their plates, Malcolm blushing madly and Trip trying not to laugh. Helen's mother stepped in.

'If you don't finish those sprouts, young lady, you won't get any pudding,' Linda said sternly. Then, as the conversation picked up again around the table, she spoiled the effect by apologising to Malcolm in a stage whisper. 'Sorry about that. Don't let her stop you, please.'

Desperately embarrassed, Malcolm tried to change the subject by offering round more vegetables and in doing so caught sight of Angie's sardonic smile. Furious, but impotent to do anything, he considered excusing himself to go to the loo, but dismissed that as likely to just draw attention to himself. He settled for refilling his wineglass and gulping down half the contents. In the end he was rescued by Maddy who started a rather wild game of paper, stone, scissors to decide which of the children should have the honour of setting fire to the pudding.

On consideration Trip thought that the conflagration of the pudding was a good idea. At least the taste of brandy and burnt fruit helped disguise the awfulness of the sauce. He was wary of trying a mince pie until Maddy assured him that they'd been made by Aunt Sherry the previous day. They were really good, he decided, as he polished off his third. Malcolm, who, he was glad to see, seemed to have recovered his composure, put a fourth onto his plate. 'You might as well. It'll be the last decent food you get till Aunt Sherry's back from hospital,' he said with a laugh.

The meal finished with surprisingly good coffee, and port for those who wanted it. Trip declined, but Malcolm poured himself a hefty measure, feeling that he'd earned it. Eventually Mary, Margaret and Caroline started to clear away dishes. This was the sign for the younger generation to engage the children in games.

People rose from the table and milled around as various games were put forward and rejected, either by the adults as being too wild, or the children as being too tame. The two boys were trying to persuade Uncle Malcolm to chase them with their toy guns, 'like an armoury officer'. Trip perched on the windowsill, watching the Reed family interact.

'Hello handsome. Been deserted?' Angie sat on the sill alongside him, her hips touching his.

'Hardly deserted,' he replied, indicating the chaos surrounding them.

'No,' she laughed, 'but left alone to my tender mercies. I've still got the mistletoe you know. It's pinned to my bra strap.' She pulled the neck of her sweater down, further than strictly necessary, to display the small green sprig fastened to a red lace strap.

'So it is,' he agreed, leaning forward slightly for a better look.

'Why don't you just sod off, Angie?' Malcolm said angrily as he joined them, having palmed his nephews off on someone else.

'Ah, the watchdog returns,' his cousin smirked.

Before either of them could say anything else the two boys returned to pester their uncle again, wanting him to play.

'How about hide and seek?' Malcolm suggested. 'Indoors only, five minutes to hide.' The boys, agreeing that hide and seek would be a good game, ran off to inform everyone else.

'You just want to drag Trip off somewhere for a quick shag,' Angie leered at Malcolm.

'How well you know me.' Malcolm leered back at her, as it dawned on Trip that the love of his life was a trifle drunk.

Angie laughed unpleasantly then turned to announce to everyone, 'Right, hide and seek it is. Peter and I'll be 'It'. You've got five minutes to hide.' Turning back to Malcolm, she continued more quietly, 'Five minutes, then I'll be searching for you. And I will find you, you know.'

'Best of luck,' Malcolm retorted. 'Come on, Trip,' he said, grabbing his partner's wrist and pulling him out of the room.

* * *

'Where we going, Malcolm?' Trip queried as he was towed across the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

'The gun room.'

'Sounds excitin'.'

Malcolm grinned at him. 'There are no guns there now, Aunt Sherry doesn't shoot. We're going there because the door has a lock. We're going to the kitchen first because that's where the key is kept.'

At the kitchen Malcolm left Trip standing by the door while he fished in a drawer, telling his mother and aunts only that he was looking for something for the game, before returning with an old-fashioned iron key. 'Come on,' he said, setting off along the corridor again until he reached the stairs to what had once been Plas Maen's gun room.

'Mind tellin' me why we need a room with a lock?' Trip asked as he followed Malcolm up the short flight.

'So we can lock ourselves in, of course.' Malcolm pulled Trip into the room, which was almost immediately above the kitchen, then closed and locked the solid wooden door. Removing the key he hung it on a hook on the doorframe, before checking that the escutcheon was in place over the keyhole.

Trip inspected the room. It was small, only about two and a half metres square. There was a window opposite the door, looking out on the rear yard where the cars were parked, with rose pink curtains hanging at either side. The rest of that wall was bare except for an old upright chair. The walls to either side were lined with racks for storing sporting guns and shooting paraphernalia, all now empty.

'Well this is cosy,' Trip drawled. Wondering why there was no response he turned to find Malcolm leaning casually against the door watching him with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

'Like what ya see?'

'Very much.' Malcolm let his gaze travel slowly over Trip's body. Christmas at Plas Maen was not a formal affair. Trip had chosen to wear black figure hugging button fly jeans, a black linen shirt and the wild silk sweater in mottled sapphire that had been a gift from his lover. The blues of the sweater echoed those of Trip's eyes. Eyes that now filled with laughter.

'Malcolm, you're drunk,' he accused.

'I most certainly am not,' Malcolm retorted. 'Well maybe just a little,' he amended in response to Trip's disbelieving stare. 'But not enough to affect my performance.'

'Whatâ€¦?' Trip started, only to have all speech rendered impossible as Malcolm pushed him hard against the far wall, pinning him there and claiming his mouth in a fierce kiss.

'Jus' what do you think you're doin?' Trip asked when he could eventually speak again

'Unwrapping my Christmas present,' Malcolm said, dragging the sweater over Trip's head and dropping it on the chair. He started on the linen shirt, unfastening the top two buttons before Trip managed to grab hold of his hands and hold them still.

'The game, Mal. What about the game? You know she'll be lookin' for you.' He didn't understand what was going on between Angie and her cousin, but he did know she'd meant what she said.

'Let her.' Malcolm gave a quick twist of his wrists and suddenly he was the one holding Trip. Not for the first time Trip found himself reflecting on his lover's strength and fighting skill. 'All she'll find is a locked door.'

'She'll hear us. Hell, remember what you said yesterday? Anyone who comes near will hear us, not to mention anyone in the kitchen.'

'Then we'll have to keep very quiet, won't we?'

'Malcolm,' Trip protested as his shirt was tugged out of his jeans.

'You're going to have to find a way to keep your mouth shut, Mr. Tucker,' Malcolm told him.

'An' what about your mouth?' Trip asked.

Malcolm looked at him with a wicked smile. 'Oh my mouth's going to be otherwise engaged,' he said, once again kissing Trip soundly as his fingers returned to unbuttoning his shirt.

Knowing the impossibility of arguing with a Malcolm recklessly determined to court danger, Trip decided to give in and enjoy himself. Although Trip was the bigger and stronger of the two, Malcolm had years of combat experience, both clean and dirty. Trip had no doubt that in a serious fight Malcolm would win, but he knew that his partner worried about getting carried away in the heat of passion and hurting him, so in love-making he usually allowed Trip to play alpha male. Having Malcolm forcibly take control like this was exciting, and intensely erotic.

Trip's shirt was unbuttoned, pushed off his shoulders and left draped on his upper arms while Malcolm turned his attention to the body he'd uncovered. Starting at the throat he nibbled and licked a path down as far as Trip's belly, then fastened his mouth on the navel, penetrating it with his tongue. His hands roamed from Trip's shoulders down as far as his nipples, where they stayed to tweak and torment. A moan of pleasure escaped from Trip and Malcolm stopped what he was doing to look at him, a finger to his lips, and murmur, 'Shh. Quiet, remember,' before returning to his work.

Now he concentrated all his attention on the nipples, licking first one then the other, then blowing on the wet flesh, watching the effect this produced. Fingers worked on one, gentle at first, then more roughly, while the other was thoroughly licked, suckled and finally nipped hard.

Trip yelped and again Malcolm caught his eye. 'If you can't keep your mouth shut Mr. Tucker,' he said softly, 'I'm going to have to do it for you.'

Trip swallowed nervously, turned on by the implied threat, but not wanting to put it to the test

'Mal,' he whispered, reaching to caress him.

'No.' Malcolm stepped back, then pulled Trip's shirt down round his elbows, restricting his arm movement. 'This is just for you, luv.' He leaned in to place a quick kiss on Trip's lips. 'You just concentrate on staying quiet. Unless you want to be gagged? He smiled his satisfaction as Trip drew in a deep breath then clamped his mouth firmly shut, a shiver running over his exposed flesh.

His mouth once again working on the sensitised nipples, Malcolm moved his hands to Trip's jeans. Fingers slipped inside the close fitting waistband and carefully unfastened the top button. Trip's stomach muscles contracted involuntarily giving Malcolm room to slide one hand inside and grasp his boxer-clad erection. Once again Trip let a whimper escape, then in desperation, as Malcolm's eyes flicked up to his, he managed to grab the edge of the curtain nearest to him and stuff a fold of it in his mouth, biting down on the soft velvet.

Malcolm unfastened another two buttons then, removing his hand from the heat of Trip's groin, he knelt in front of him, steadying himself with a hand on each hip. Burying his face in the half open fly, he breathed in Trip's scentâ€”part the man's natural body odour, part the woody shower gel he favoured, part the smell of his arousalâ€”and revelled in it. Pushing Trip's hips against the wall, he took the coarse fabric of the jeans' fly in his teeth and tugged, undoing two more buttons. He could hear his partner's heavy irregular breaths, but no sound passed his lips.

Lifting Trip's feet in turn, Malcolm removed his shoes, then stripped off his jeans and boxers. He slid his hands between Trip's legs, demanding and receiving more room as Trip spread his feet wider. Then Malcolm began to torture his lover. Ignoring his urgent need for genital contact, he concentrated instead on his thighs, letting his hands trail over muscles that trembled under his touch. Leaning with his hands on Trip's hips, frustrating his efforts to move, he ran his tongue in long smooth paths over his lover's inner thighs. Trip twitched under Malcolm's hands, then again, more forcefully as Malcolm changed from licking to biting, laying a line of gentle, and some not so gentle, nips across the top of each leg. He was very aware of his love's erection only inches from his face, pre-cum glistening on its tip. A glance upwards showed him Trip, head back, eyes closed, jaws clamped tightly on velvet, breathing heavily through his nose; lost in his lover's touch, trusting, vulnerable. The sight was almost Malcolm's undoing, almost overwhelming him with a combination of love and lust. Taking a couple of shuddering breaths he fought to stay in control, before finally giving Trip the attention he craved.

As Malcolm took hold of his cock Trip gave a thankful sigh and slid down the wall slightly as his knees relaxed. Malcolm leaned in to pleasure him, lapping the beads of pre-cum off his tip before circling the head with his tongue, then taking long slow licks from base to tip of the rock hard organ. He stopped and Trip looked down, watching through half-open eyes as Malcolm stuck two of his own fingers in his mouth, thoroughly wetting, and dribbling saliva over them, before reaching between Trip's legs and easing one into Trip's arse. Trip let his mouth fall open slightly in a gasp; his muscles contracting tightly round Malcolm's finger. Then as he gradually relaxed, he grabbed hold of the curtain again, stuffing it firmly back in his mouth. The second finger slid inside and Malcolm began to move them slowly in and out. Trip rocked his hips, pushing down hard each time Malcolm's fingers slid inside, trying to maximise penetration.

So wrapped up was he in what Malcolm was doing to him that Trip had completely forgotten about the hide and seek. The sound of people on the stairs outside the door came as a rude shock. His eyes flew wide open in alarm. He was standing, shirt half tied round his arms, naked from the waist down, a curtain stuffed in his mouth and his lover's fingers up his arse, and now someone was trying to open the door! Looking at Malcolm he met eyes brimming with amusement, but also with love, and he relaxed again, with total trust in his partner.

'The door's locked, Auntie Angie.' It was Peter, and Angie.

'Is it, Peter?' Angie was right outside the door now. 'That's strange, who could possibly have locked it, I wonder?' she asked archly.

'I don't suppose there's anyone in there,' Peter said with childish confidence. 'Locking the door would be cheating.'

'You're right, it would. Come on then. I'll race you to the conservatory.' Light footsteps clattered down the bare wooden steps, and then Angie spoke again. 'I knew you'd be here, Malcolm,' she hissed. 'You bastard. Don't think I've finished with you. This isn't over yet.' Then she too descended the stairs.

Any idea Trip may have had of puzzling over Angie's words was rapidly driven from his mind as Malcolm resumed the onslaught on his person.

Continuing the established rhythm with his fingers, Malcolm once again turned his attention to Trip's cock. Curling his fingers firmly round the base of the shaft, holding it steady, he flicked his tongue teasingly over the tip before fastening his lips round the head and sucking gently. Trip thrust forward, eager for more. His breathing was beginning to sound distressed, short panting gasps obstructed by the silencing curtain. Malcolm judged it was time to give him the relief he needed. Repositioning his hand he grasped Trip's balls, massaging them, squeezing gently. Letting his mouth take in the whole of Trip's length, he bobbed his head, starting to slide up and down the shaft, but immediately Trip took over, his hips bucking, thrusting deeply. Realising Trip wasn't going to last long, Malcolm moved both his hands, clutching Trip's buttocks, steadying himself and making sure he wasn't choked by his lover's urgency.

Forcing a fist into his mouth along with the curtain, Trip came. The dizzying intensity of his release only anchored by the need for silence as he bit hard on his knuckles to stifle his shouts. Calling Malcolm's name silently in his passion-addled mind.

Malcolm drank down his lover's seed, swallow after swallow, sucking, draining him, waiting for his climax to run its course, for his body to stop shaking, his breathing to return to something like normal. Finally deserting Trip's softening cock, Malcolm stood, carefully pulled the curtain from his mouth and took hold of his head in both hands.

'I love you, Trip Tucker,' he breathed, capturing Trip's dry mouth in a tender kiss, welcoming in Trip's tongue, letting him taste himself.

'God, Mal, that was unbelievable,' Trip murmured, when they finally broke apart.

'Glad you enjoyed it,' Malcolm smiled, 'I aim to please.'

'Please and amaze,' Trip said, shaking his head.

Malcolm handed Trip his discarded clothing and helped him dress. 'We should leave,' he said.

'What about you?' Trip protested.

'This was for you, luv. I'm fine.'

'Not from where I'm standing,' Trip pointedly eyed Malcolm's crotch. 'She sees you like that, your mom'll have kittens. Come here.'

He caught hold of Malcolm, pulling him close, moving to lean against the wall again, Malcolm's back hugged up against Trip's chest, locked in place by his arm. He unfastened the button on Malcolm's blue jeans and unzipped the fly, slipped one hand inside his boxers and took firm hold of his lover's hard-on.

'It's not goin' to be as excitin' as what you've just done for me, an' you're goin' to have ta get changed before rejoinin' company. But I think ya might jus' enjoy this,' Trip whispered, his mouth against Malcolm's ear, accent thickened by post-coital satiety. 'An' remember. No noise.'

'Trip!'

'Hush your mouth, or I'll be the one gaggin' you,' Trip warned. Then he proceeded quickly, but thoroughly to hand-fuck Malcolm.

It didn't take long. Malcolm came, held up by his lover's arm as his legs refused to support him, both of his hands clamped firmly over his mouth, moaning very softly in his throat.

Trip wiped his hand on Malcolm's boxers. 'I managed to keep anything from getting' on ya jeans, but we're both goin' to have to clean up just as soon as we can.'

'Yes,' Malcolm grimaced, readjusting his clothes. 'Thanks,' he said, not sounding as if he meant it.

Trip laughed at him. 'Hey, it's better than joinin' your family with a tent in your trousers. You reckon it's safe to leave now?'

Malcolm unlocked and opened the door. He was pretty sure there was no one there. They would have heard any of the children on the stairs, and he couldn't believe that Angie would hang around waiting for them to come out. But he was relieved to see both the stairs and the kitchen corridor deserted. He replaced the gun room key in the empty kitchen as they passed. When they reached the hall they could hear excited voices in the living room. The children were opening their presents. The coast was clear. The two of them ran up the stairs and into the safety of their bedroom.

* * *

Half an hour later, at a little after six, Malcolm and Trip joined the party in the living room. Malcolm left it to Trip to spin a story to Peter about where they had been hiding, while he faced the disapproval of his parents and various other relatives who thought that skipping out of the game 'wasn't playing fair' with the children. He avoided speaking with Angie for as long as possible, but when he saw her talking to Trip, he moved to join them.

'Have fun in the gun room, did you?' Angie asked Trip, her mouth smiling but her eyes cold. She had a glass of Scotch in her hand and Trip thought it probably wasn't her first.

'Sure did,' he smiled back at her, seeing no reason now to pretend they hadn't been there.

'One of his favourite places, the gun room,' she said bitterly. 'The bastard.'

Malcolm had almost reached them and Trip was pretty sure from the look on his face that he'd heard Angie's last remark. Keen to avoid a confrontation in front of the whole family he jumped in before Malcolm had a chance to speak.

'Malcolm's takin' me to visit Aunt Sherry now, ain't that right, Mal?'

'That'll be nice for her. Maybe I'll come too, then you can tell me all about your afternoon,' she sneered. 'Can I come too, Mal, sweetheart?'

'No,' he said rudely, before turning his back on her and saying to Trip, 'I'm just going to the kitchen to find some mince pies and the rest of the port to take. You go and get our coats and I'll meet you at the car.'

Stopping only to tell his parents where they were going and to collect any messages people wanted to send, Malcolm left the room.

'I could tell you things about him, you know,' Angie said, watching him go. 'Things he wouldn't want you to know.'

'I know all I need to about Malcolm, thanks,' Trip said, acknowledging to himself at least that that wasn't entirely true. 'I'm going now. Any messages for Aunt Sherry?'

'Give her my love. And tell her her blue-eyed boy is a bastard,' she spat at him, before flouncing off to join her other cousins and their children.

* * *

Malcolm didn't mention Angie or their adventure in the gun room on the journey to Shrewsbury and Trip, not wanting to risk spoiling a good day decided to let his questions wait for a more appropriate time.

Aunt Sherry was well, fretting at being stuck in the hospital but hopeful of being released the following day. She was touched by the mince pies and port, hiding the bottle in her bedside cupboard 'for a night cap later'.

By the time they got back to Plas Maen the cousins and their children had retired to the Wynnstay Arms. Malcolm passed on the information about Aunt Sherry's condition then, as they had no desire to spend the rest of the evening with Angie and the older generation, he excused himself and Trip and they retired to bed.


	4. Boxing Day

It had snowed overnight; a sprinkling of icing sugar softness, hiding footprints and blurring the distant view. Yellow-tinged clouds heavy with further falls moved slowly west leaving a washed out blue sky in their wake.

Breakfast was a drawn-out affair, people rising and wandering into the kitchen to help themselves to cereals, toast, eggs and bacon, as their fancy took them. Trip and Malcolm came downstairs a little before nine and shared their meal with Maddy, Archie and Caroline. Mary Reed had gone with Margaret and Philip to exercise their dog, while Stuart Reed, who had risen earlier than most, was in the library reading. Angie was still in bed.

Plans had been made for everyone to lunch at the Wynnstay with those who were staying there, which left two or three hours to fill.

Maddy and Malcolm took Trip for a walk along the banks of the Tanat, pointing out childhood haunts and fooling around in the snow. The other two joined forces against Malcolm for a snowball fight, claiming his munitions training gave him an unfair advantage. He was soundly trounced by their combined assault, ending up with wet clothes and snow down his neck. Back at the house, Malcolm went upstairs to change; Maddy joined her father in the library while Trip wandered into the living room to wait for Malcolm's return.

Angie was on the sofa by the fire idly turning the pages of a magazine. Realising that she was the room's only occupant Trip was about to retreat when she turned to him with a smile and he decide he'd feel foolish making an excuse to leave.

'Hi. Been for a walk?' she asked.

'Yeah, along the river. It's real pretty in the snow.'

'You must be cold. Come and sit by the fire for a bit. I'll stick another log on.'

Trip didn't really want to join Angie on the sofa; her habit of throwing herself at him and her constant sniping at and about Malcolm were beginning to annoy him, but he couldn't think of a polite way to refuse. He chose the far end from where Angie had been sitting and was glad when, having finished stoking the fire, she resumed her original seat, flicking a hand over her trousers to dislodge some bark chips caught in the fabric.

'All on your own?' she asked. 'I think this is the first time I've seen you without Malcolm hovering in the background like a mother hen. Or security officer.' She was smiling, relaxed, making a joke of her remarks, but the edge was still there, the slight sneer in her voice.

'He got wet, he's upstairs getting' changed.'

'Ooh, didn't fall in the river I hope. He wouldn't like that at all,' she laughed. Trip, the story Maddy had told him about Angie pushing her cousin in the river fresh in his mind, just stared at her. They could hear Mary Reed's voice in the hall and Malcolm answering her and Trip snatched at it as his escape.

'Think Malcolm's looking for me. Said I'd meet him in the hall.' He got to his feet and turned to leave. As he did so Angie also stood, blocking his way.

'Look, Trip,' she said, 'I know you don't like me teasing Malcolm, but it's just the way we are. We're both as bad as each other. Always have been. Let's call a truce and start again shall we?' She smiled and held out her hand offering to shake on it. Trip suspected an ulterior motive but wasn't really interested in finding out what it was. They'd be going their separate ways in the morning and the chances were they'd never meet again. The easiest thing to do was to shake hands and leave Angie before Malcolm came in looking for him.

'OK,' he said, and clasped her hand, intending to drop it immediately and move past her to the door.

Angie closed her hand round his in a firm grip and flung her other arm round his waist, locking the two of them together. Then she stepped backwards, pulling him with her, and allowed herself to fall onto the sofa. Trip, taken completely by surprise and pulled off balance, had no option but to fall with of her, whereupon Angie silenced his angry protests by kissing him, just as the two of them heard the door open.

Malcolm walked into the room to see Trip and Angie tangled together on the sofa, apparently passionately kissing. Leaving the door open, he crossed the room almost at a run, grabbed Trip under the armpits and dragged him to his feet, pushing him roughly to one side.

'Mal,' Trip started.

'Don't worry, I know this isn't your fault,' Malcolm snapped, his furious gaze locked with his cousin's.

'Confident are you?' Angie hissed at him. 'How does it feel, Malcolm?'

Malcolm's hands clenched into fists, and for a moment Trip thought he was going to hit Angie, then, struggling for control, he replied. 'Yes I'm confident. Confident that Trip loves me and wouldn't do anything to hurt me. Confident that you're just a sad vindictive bitch with mistletoe tied to her bra.'

'Pinned to my knickers today, actually,' she snapped back at him.

'God, you're disgusting, Angie. A really fucking nasty piece of work,' he was shouting now.

'You can be so coarse, you know Malcolm. I don't understand what Trip sees in you.'

'What he sees is that it's not mistletoe I've got in my knickers,' Malcolm spat at her furiously.

Mary Reed's gasp behind them was the first notice Trip and Malcolm had that Malcolm's parents were in the doorway.

'That's enough, Malcolm. You should be ashamed of yourself.' Stuart Reed said coldly.

'Oh great,' Malcolm muttered. Then he saw Angie's malicious smile and realised she'd known his parents were there and deliberately not said anything. 'Very funny, Angie. Very fucking funny,' he snapped.

'Malcolm! How dare you. Apologise to Angela and to your mother immediately,' Stuart ordered.

Malcolm looked from his parents to Angie, to Trip then, with a muttered curse, stormed out of the room. His father tried to catch hold of his arm as he passed but Malcolm angrily shook him off without a word.

'Oh dear,' Mary Reed said. 'Oh dear.'

'That boy needs some manners knocking into him,' Stuart said. 'I don't know about the standards expected in Starfleet,' he went on to Trip, 'but behaviour like that wouldn't be tolerated in the Royal Navy.'

'Mr. and Mrs. Reed, Angie,' Trip said, 'I'm probably going to regret this, but Malcolm means a great deal to me and I really want to know. Why it is you all insist on treating him so badly?'

Angie turned away without answering and Stuart Reed just looked at him coldly, leaving Mary Reed to attempt a faltering explanation.

'Well, the Reeds are navy men, but Malcolm wouldn't even try to learnâ€¦ to overcome his,' she started.

'The Royal Navy was never good enough for Malcolm, so he saw no need to put in the necessary effort,' her husband interrupted.

'An' that's what this is all about?' Trip exploded, incredulous. 'You're just pissed because he didn't join the Royal Navy. Is that what you're sayin'? Well let me remind you that these days the Royal Navy is nothing more than a fishery protection and marine exploration force. Not much call for armoury officers there is there?

'Do you have any idea what Malcolm's job is and how damn good he is at it, any of you?' He glared at them but neither expected nor got a response. He knew that Malcolm would be upset when he found out, but Trip, really angry now, ploughed on regardless. 'Well let me enlighten you. Malcolm Reed, your son, sir, is the armoury officer on Starfleet's, on Earth's, flagship. He's the best armoury officer Starfleet's got. It's Malcolm who designed and developed the model of phase pistol used throughout Starfleet. It's Malcolm who was responsible for developing the first stable EM force field, now used both in Starfleet and here on Earth, including by the Royal Navy if I'm not mistaken. He did that under pressure, saving five lives in the process, mine and the captain's included. It's Malcolm who figured out how to fire phase cannons while travelling at warp, who upgraded and improved both the cannons and torpedoes and who devised the tactical alert system now installed on all Starfleet ships. He's one of very few people who you could say were truly indispensable to the success of _Enterprise_ 's first mission. Starfleet is very proud of your son. I'm very proud of him, and proud to be his partner. I'm just sorry you don't feel the same way. Now if you'll excuse me I'm goin' to find him and remind him that there's at least one person here who loves him.'

Leaving Malcolm's parents and cousin standing in shocked silence, Trip strode out of the room. He ran up the stairs to their bedroom figuring that was the easiest place to start looking for Malcolm. He wasn't there, but looking out of the tower's window Trip could see someone on the bench under the ancient yew tree. Has to be him, he thought. Who else is going to be sitting out in this weather? Shrugging on his own jacket he picked up Malcolm's and made his way back downstairs.

Reckoning Malcolm wouldn't be very receptive to being crept up on at present, Trip let his feet crunch noisily in the snow. As he got close Malcolm turned to check who was there. Recognising Trip he visibly relaxed. The hand dragged hurriedly across his eyes doing nothing to hide the suspicion of tears.

'Hey, there. Brought your coat.' Trip draped the garment over his partner's shoulders. 'Not the weather to be sitting here in just your sweater.'

'Thanks.' Malcolm offered him a wan smile. 'I'm sorry,' he said.

'Don't be.'

'I shouldn't let them get to me like this.'

'No you shouldn't,' Trip agreed sitting alongside him. 'But you do. Still love you though.'

'I suppose I'd better go back in and apologise to my parents.'

'Oh no you don't. They'll get over it.' Trip paused and shuffled his feet in the snow. 'Anyway, hearing you swear is probably the least of their worries now,' he confessed. In reply to Malcolm's questioning look he went on, 'I let them get to me too. Sorry.'

'Oh God, Trip. What have you done?'

'Lost my temper a bit, I'm afraid. Sorry. Asked them if they'd any idea how important you are on _Enterprise_. Told them Starfleet was proud of you. That I was proud of you and that I loved you. Asked them why they treated you like they do.'

Malcolm sighed. 'I don't suppose they told you.'

'Didn't wait for an answer. Just said my piece and left. It's true though. I am proud of you. And I love you.' Trip put his arm around Malcolm's shoulder.

'I know.'

Trip gave him a hug and the two of them sat taking comfort in each other's company for a while, until Malcolm's stomach started to rumble.

'Must be getting near lunchtime,' he said with an attempt at a grin. 'I suppose we should go back in.'

'I've got a better idea,' Trip said. 'Why don't we skip the joys of lunch with your horrible relatives and walk down to that pub you were telling me about? You can initiate me into the pleasures of warm beer.'

* * *

Y Ddraig Goch was typical of the Welsh Marches. A long and low two-storey building constructed of the local stone, it nestled into the landscape. Inside there was the bar, plain, utilitarian and used by the local farmers, and a lounge/restaurant, cushions on the seats the only concession to luxury. Off the lounge was the snug. It had once been the main bar of the establishment. Now it was a small private sanctuary in the busy pub. An oak settle ran the length of one wall, the red plastic-toped table in front of it strangely out of place. Malcolm plumped himself down on the hard settle and took a long draught of his bitter before putting his glass down and tucking in to his roast beef sandwich. Trip chose a chair on the opposite side of the table, put down his bowl of stir fried chicken and took a genteel sip of his pint. Malcolm chuckled at him.

'Take a proper swig. You can't get the flavour just sipping it like that.'

'Listen, I've drunk coffee cooler than this,' Trip joked. 'I'm not sure a proper swig is what I want.' Nevertheless, he took a longer drink. 'Not bad,' he conceded. 'But I'm damned if I can see why ya can't serve it at a proper temperature.'

'Bitter, especially real ale, which this is, should be served at 16 degrees centigrade. Any colder and you wouldn't be able to appreciate the subtle combination of hops and malt,' Malcolm said, in lecture mode. Softening he added, 'If you really don't like it I could get you a Belgian lager. Good strong flavour, and always served cold?'

'No. No, this is fine,' Trip said, taking another drink. 'Different, but fine. I've survived worse on away missions to alien planets.' Malcolm laughed as Trip grimaced at what even he himself admitted was a heavily hopped finish to the beer.

* * *

They finished their food and Malcolm replenished their drinks, this time getting Trip the cold Belgian lager.

Mal, can I ask you somethin'?' Trip was half afraid to ask. He didn't want his lover to clam up and hide behind his facade of British reserve. But he did seriously want to know what was going on between Malcolm and his cousin Angie. Maddy had filled him in on their childhood history, but from what he was witnessing over this holiday weekend, there was something more that even Maddy didn't know.

'Of course. Anything, love. Why?'

'Well, I'm jus' wondering about you and Angie. What's between you, an' all. I mean, I've seen you with people you don't like, but this is different. For both of you. It's like you really hate each other.'

'Yes. Angie and I have known each other for a long time, grew up together practically, but we've never liked each other.'

Trip could almost see Malcolm's shutters coming down. Deciding to put his cards on the table he said, 'I asked Maddy yesterday an' she told me about when you were kids. About Angie pushin' you in the river.' Malcolm put his pint down abruptly and inhaled sharply. Trip stopped talking.

'That was, what, twenty years ago now, and I still remember exactly what it felt like. The taste of the water. Being dragged under by the current. Cold. Dark. Terrifying.' Malcolm shuddered and laughed self deprecatingly. 'I didn't like swimming much anyway, afraid of drowning even then, but that put me off for life.'

'But that's not it, is it? Not why you hate each other?'

Malcolm looked at his lover, the strain evident on his face. 'No,' he admitted. 'No, there's more to it than that.' He looked Trip straight in the eyes. 'It's not something I'm proud of,' he said. 'I think there were extenuating circumstances. She'd only come to try and persuade me to join the Navy instead of Starfleet. I was annoyed with her. And with my father for sending her. But.' He stopped and stared out of the window. 'No. That's not true,' he sighed. 'There weren't extenuating circumstances. I was in the wrong. But what she didâ€¦ What happened afterwardsâ€¦ It was as much my fault as hers, more probably. But I can't forgive her for the aftermath. Angie? I don't know if she's forgiven me or not. Maybe hating me has just become a habit for her,' he trailed off uncertainly.

Trip found himself wishing he hadn't broached the subject, but he couldn't go back now. 'What did happen, Mal?

Malcolm looked at Trip, looked way again and started talking.

'When I told my parents, my father, that I wanted to join Starfleet instead of the Royal Navy heâ€¦ Well, to say he didn't understand would be an understatement. We had the most horrendous row. To cut a long story short, I ended up here, at Aunt Sherry's, while I applied for Starfleet. But my father wouldn't give up. He asked Angie to come and try and persuade me to change my mind. He didn't know we didn't get on, and she didn't bother to tell him.

'She was a midshipman with a couple of year's service and was posted on Anglesey, at the marine research station there. You do know she's a marine biologist don't you? That that's what she does in the Navy?'

'So, not a real sailor then,' Trip teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

'That's not what I said,' Malcolm protested. He met Trip's amused eyes and relented. 'No, not a real sailor,' he conceded. Even the ordnance officers weren't 'real sailors' as you put it. Oh, they went to sea, but what's the point of an ordnance officer on a marine exploration vessel?'

'You told Angie how you felt?'

'Yes, of course. Though she already knew.' He looked earnestly at his partner. 'It wasn't just the fear of water, of drowning, Trip. I wanted to be somewhere where I could be a real ordnance officer, have the best weapons at my disposal, improve them, do research. Use them in anger if necessary. I know you think I'm daft, but weapons are my passion, Trip. They're where my skills lie, weapons and combat. I just wanted to be able use those skills to the full.'

'I don't think you're daft, Malcolm. Just because I don't share your particular passion doesn't mean I don't understand how you feel. I feel the same about my engines. Anyone had suggested sendin' _Enterprise_ out without me, I'd 'a killed them.' He reached across the table and gripped Malcolm's hand briefly. 'So she didn't have a successful visit then?'

'No. But it gets worse. Much worse,' Malcolm said quietly. He took a long drink of his beer; then, not looking at Trip he told the rest of the story.

'Angie had her boyfriend with her. Frank Ellis. She was serious about him. He was in the Navy too. He was an ordnance officer in fact, so we had a lot in common. We got on well. Very well.' He paused, stole a quick look at Trip, then hurried on. 'Aunt Sherry had some antique shotguns then. It was only a couple of years after Uncle Idwal died and she still had a lot of his stuff. Frank asked to see them. They were in the gun room and I took him up there. We were the only people in the house. Angie and Aunt Sherry had gone into Shrewsbury shopping.' He stopped and took another mouthful of beer. His hands were shaking, Trip noticed.

'Frank and I were talking. One thing led to another and Iâ€¦ I made a pass at him. We started kissing, and then it went further than that, and we didn't hear the car return. Angie knew where we were. She'd seen the light from the yard, and she came looking for Frank.'

When Malcolm stopped talking, Trip said, 'I'm guessin' you hadn't locked the gun room door that day.' Something about the tone of his voice made Malcolm flinch and glance at him. Then he looked down at his hands again and carried on.

'When Angie came into the room she found me up her boyfriend's backside, fucking his brains out,' he said with a rush. 'She was furious, absolutely livid.'

'I'm not surprised!'

'No. Strangely, she didn't seem mad with Frank though, just with me. She shouted and screamed at me. And hit me. She slapped me across the face and said she'd make me pay for it. Then she ran out of the room. I followed her, but by the time I was dressedâ€¦ I didn't know where she'd gone. By the time I found her she'd called my parents. It was my father she was after, but of course he was on duty, so sheâ€¦ she told my mother what had happened, what she'd seen. In detail. I could hear my mother crying,' he paused, gulping back tears of his own. 'My mother had another boyfriend before she met my father. They were going to get married. A week before the wedding she found him in bed with another man. I didn't know that then. My father told me when he called later that evening. He said I'd hurt my mother deeply and made her ill and that he wasâ€¦ was ashamed of me. Not toâ€¦ not to bother keeping in touch with them. To go and join bloody Starfleet if that's what I wanted, and good riddance. It was three years before either of them spoke to me again.' He stopped, one hand across his eyes. 'I'm sorry,' he choked out. 'I'm going to the loo. I'll be back in a minute.'

When he returned five minutes later he found a large whisky next to his near empty beer glass. 'Thanks,' he said, giving Trip a shaky smile, before downing it in one. 'I'm sorry.'

'What for?' Trip asked noncommittally.

'I don't know. Being such a fool. Not telling you before,' he shrugged and studied the tabletop, trailing his fingers through the wet patterns his glass had left, before finally looking up at Trip, worry clear in his eyes. 'Using you to get back at Angie,' he offered.

'I confess I'm not exactly happy about that part,' Trip sighed. 'But I think the blame for what's happened this holiday 's pretty much evenly split between the two of you. What I'm not sure about is what yesterday meant.' When Malcolm looked at him, puzzled, he elaborated, 'I mean, why?'

'Why?' Malcolm echoed.

'Why d'ya do it, Mal? Was it just to get back at Angie?'

'No!' Malcolm reached out and caught hold of Trip's hands. 'Don't ever think that.' He dropped his eyes from Trip's momentarily then locked gazes again. 'I admit I chose the gun room because of what had happened with Angie. But making love to you?' His grip on Trip's fingers tightened. 'How could you think I wanted, needed, any reason other than because you're you?'

Then, because his lover looked as if he might dissolve into tears again, Trip moved round the table and sat on the settle next to him. Putting an arm round his shoulders Trip made Malcolm look up at him. 'I am real glad you remembered to lock the door this time though,' he said with a gentle smile, before kissing Malcolm's still trembling lips. Malcolm slid his arm round Trip's waist and leaned against him.

'I don't deserve you,' he murmured.

'Probably not, but don't think that means I'm ever goin' to let you go,' Trip said, hugging him.

They stayed as they were, each with an arm around the other, until Trip asked quietly, 'They're not ''not speaking to you''' now. What changed their minds?'

Malcolm tried to pull away, but Trip wouldn't let him, so he relaxed back into the comforting embrace. 'I don't think they did change their minds really,' he sighed. 'At least my father didn't. I think maybe Mother missed me a bit.' He sounded so lost that Trip bent to kiss the top of his head. 'I was on sick leave. I'd broken my arm on a training exercise, and Maddy invited me to stay for a few days. When I arrived our parents were there. Nothing was said. They just acted as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn't ostracised me for three years. They didn't ask about Starfleet, or my job, or anything. Just carried on as if everything was all right. We were never a close family, but I didn't want to lose them, to be shut out again, so I just went along with it.'

Trip wasn't sure what to say. By comparison with his own happy-go-lucky family Malcolm's was like something out of a Gothic novel, their attitudes and conduct beyond his comprehension. It hadn't taken Trip many months to realise that there was more to Malcolm Reed than the rule-bound, weapons-obsessed facade he projected as _Enterprise_ 's armoury officer. But the more he learned of his lover's background the more he was amazed more he learnthe man had turned out so normal.

'You think we're all nut cases, don't you?' Malcolm asked, as if reading his mind.

'Not all of you, no. I think Angie is, what happened notwithstanding, and I'm reservin' judgement on your parents. But Maddy's definitely not a nut case.' He stopped, waiting for a reaction.

Malcolm dug him in the ribs. 'You've forgotten someone,' he pointed out.

'No, darlin'. I never forget you,' Trip said. 'And I certainly don' think you're a nut case,' he turned to look at Malcolm. 'I've seen you armed and rarin' for action, remember,' he grinned. 'I _know_ you're a nut case!'

* * *

They arrived back at Plas Maen shortly before five, only 20 minutes after the rest of the party. Nothing was said by anyone about what had happened earlier. Malcolm called Shrewsbury Hospital and was told that Aunt Sherry had been cleared to come home. Since both Trip and Malcolm had drunk several pints, and in Malcolm's case a large whisky, Maddy volunteered to drive them to collect her.

They returned in plenty of time for a dinner of cold turkey, pronounced by Aunt Sherry to be a vast improvement on the hospital food. Aunt Sherry's presence seemed to lend life to the party and the evening actually passed happily, Trip and Malcolm eventually retiring to their bed at past midnight.


	5. New Year's Eve

Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed left Plas Maen on 28th December and spent the next few days immersed in the minutia of getting their respective departments ready for _Enterprise_ 's continuing mission.

Captain Archer had conducted a straw poll of the crew and it had been decided not to delay departure longer than necessary. The crew wanted to celebrate New Year at warp, exploring, seeking out new worlds, and the captain was happy to oblige. A party was arranged in the mess hall and chef, for once free of rationing restrictions, had laid on a buffet the like of which they probably wouldn't see again for some considerable time. Sub Commander T'Pol had even agreed to look after the bridge alone between 2230 and 0100 hours to allow the gamma shift to attend, since Earth's New Year held no significance for her.

At 2300 hours Trip, fed up of waiting for Malcolm to put in an appearance, warned Ensign Hoshi Sato not to let anyone steal their seats and went to look for him. It wasn't a long search. There was only one place Malcolm was likely to be.

Strolling into the armoury, Trip was met by a rather harassed crewman.

'How come you're not at the party?' Trip asked.

'I will be soon, I hope, sir,' she replied. 'Lieutenant Reed wanted to double check some of the refit on the port cannon.' Trip rolled his eyes, shaking his head and she flashed him a quick grin. 'He's in the cannon housing, sir,' she said, pointing to the back of the armoury, behind a bank of equipment lockers. 'I just came out to fetch a hyper-spanner.'

'Give it to me.' Trip held out his hand for the tool.

'Sir?'

'I'll take it to him. You get on to the party. Anyone asks, the chief engineer released you,' he added at her doubtful look.

The armoury door slid shut behind the relieved crewman and Trip walked round behind the lockers to the open hatch that led to the cannon housing. Sticking his head inside he yelled, 'Malcolm, get yer ass out here, now.' There was a scuffling noise and when Malcolm's head appeared round a corner he continued, 'What the hell d'ya think you're doin'?'

'My job. Why?'

'Because it's gone eleven on New Year's Eve, that's why. Now get out here.'

'I didn't realise it was so late. I'll justâ€”'

'Malcolm!' Trip interrupted. 'Is the cannon online?' Malcolm nodded. 'Then leave it an' get out here. I've got Hoshi savin' our seats, but I don't know how long she'll be able to hang onto them. The mess hall's gettin' pretty full. Don't make me make it an order, Lieutenant,' he added when Malcolm hesitated, deliberately thickening his accent on the rank to drawl the word out in the way he knew turned Malcolm on.

Malcolm reluctantly gave in, climbing out of the access way and placing his tool kit on the floor before turning to his partner. As he expected Trip was wearing one of his trademark garish shirts, dark blue with planets, moons and an asteroid field printed all over it in a riot of clashing colours. Malcolm blinked as he saw it.

'A present from m' sister,' Trip said, turning with his arms held out to display the full effect. 'Like it?'

'It's hideous,' Malcolm said. 'Just looking at it makes me feel ill.'

'That mean you might want to rip it off later?' Trip asked hopefully.

'I sometimes think that's the only reason you wear such horrible things. Have I got time to get out of my uniform?'

Trip looked at his partner and an idea popped into his head. With a gleam in his eyes, he pressed Malcolm back against the wall. 'Always time for that,' he said, leaning forward and kissing him thoroughly as he slid the zip on the front of Malcolm's uniform all the way down and moved his hands inside.

'Trip! This is the armoury. Anyone could come in! Crewman Heraldâ€”'

'Is at the party,' Trip said. 'I told her t' go. Everyone's at the party.' Trip looked at him with a wicked smile. 'An' I haven't had a chance yet to show you just how much I appreciated our little adventure in the gun room,' he said, tugging the uniform off Malcolm's shoulders and down to his elbows, trapping his arms.

'What about the party?'

'Party's not goin' anywhere. It'll still be there when we've finished.' Pushing Malcolm's shirt and undershirt up as far as he could Trip ran his hands across the exposed flesh, relishing the feel of his lover's hard muscles, smiling as the nipples instantly hardened at his touch. He bent down and took one of the hard nubs in his mouth, toying mercilessly with the other by hand. Malcolm gasped and squirmed against the wall.

'Trip, I'm really not comfortable with this. In the armoury. It doesn't seem right,' Malcolm protested; though he wasn't trying to free his arms, or stop what his lover was doing.

'What?' Trip teased. 'With all your lovely phallic torpedoes linin' the walls? Seems just right to me, darlin'. Relax, Mal. You're in safe hands.' So saying Trip slid one hand inside Malcolm's underpants and grasped his erection. At the same time he silenced the protests with a kiss, feeling the sharp intake of breath as the other man reacted to his touch.

Abandoning Malcolm's mouth, Trip laid a trail of kisses down his neck as far as the shirt. Malcolm arched his head back, exposing as much flesh as he could and moaned softly as Trip suckled on his throat. Trip moved his attention back to Malcolm's nipples, tonguing and suckling at each in turn, his free hand holding the shirt up out of the way. All the time his other hand grasped his love's cock, sliding along its length in a slow, firm rhythm.

'God, Trip, that's good,' Malcolm panted. 'Oh, don't stop,' he pleaded as Trip's hand left his cock.

'Not stoppin',' Trip murmured as he knelt in front of Malcolm. 'Just getting' comfortable.'

He pulled Malcolm's jumpsuit down as far as possible and slipped his underpants down to the top of his thighs, carefully releasing his rock hard dick, before leaning to lap the opalescent beads of pre-cum from its tip. Malcolm was whimpering, soft incoherent noises that Trip found unbelievably arousing. That he could reduce _Enterprise_ 's formal, reserved armoury officer to such a state of wanton desire still amazed and excited him. With one hand cradling Malcolm's balls, the other circled round the base of his cock, Trip set to work with his tongue. Quick, firm licks along its length alternated with swirls round the head, teasing, exploring. He nibbled delicately along the hard vein on the organ's underside, continuing downwards to the scrotum, licking and gently sucking. Malcolm's moaning was getting louder, more insistent, his hips twitching, eager to thrust. One final lick over the balls and up the shaft, then Trip pursed his lips round the slick head and let Malcolm bury himself in the wet heat of his lover's mouth.

Malcolm thrust urgently, his whole body arched with tension, head back, eyes closed, moans of pleasure now interspersed with panted words. 'Oh, Trip, yes, good. Dear God, suck me, please. Trip, love you Trip. Love you, suck hard, please. Trip. TRIP.'

Trip, grasping Malcolm's hips, held himself steady as his lover climaxed, swallowing again and again the hot viscous liquid pumped down his throat.

Removing his mouth from the softening cock, Trip climbed to his feet, his arms supporting his still trembling partner. They kissed, Malcolm's tongue searching Trip's mouth, tasting himself. Shrugging his arms out of their uniform restraints, Malcolm hugged Trip to him tightly, one hand inside the gaudy shirt, cradling warm bare flesh.

'Thanks, luv,' he murmured. 'That was pretty wonderful.'

'You bring out the best in me,' Trip kissed him again.

'Talking of bringing out the best,' Malcolm moved a hand to the front of Trip's jeans, massaging the hard bulge in the fabric. 'What next?'

'I drag you to the front of the armoury, throw you over one of the torpedo launchers and fuck you senseless,' Trip suggested, only half joking.

'No!' Malcolm said, before tempering his vehemence, 'Just too potentially embarrassing, luv. Besides, those torpedoes are cold. I'd catch my death.'

'Then here will have t' do.' Trip slid down his lover's body again, pulling uniform and underpants with him, kneeling to lift Malcolm's feet and remove the garments. Reaching up he caught hold of the other man's hands and urged him onto his knees too. 'Turn round. Lean on the hatch entrance,' Trip instructed.

Malcolm did as he was told, then turned to one side, reaching into his toolbox, pulling out a tub and handing it to Trip.

'Machine grease?' The engineer eyed it doubtfully,

'It's vegetable fat,' Malcolm shrugged. 'Won't do any harm.' He leaned on the hatch again, head turned to watch as Trip released his impressive erection from the confines of his jeans and blues.

Positioning himself between Malcolm's spread legs Trip ran his hands over the shirt clad back in front of him. 'Shall I take it off?' Malcolm offered.

'No,' Trip nuzzled his neck before pushing the shirt up as high as he could and running his hands over the exposed skin. 'I like you like this, half dressed. Makes you seem slutty, dirty.'

Malcolm smiled to himself as he relaxed into the open hatch, head on his arms, enjoying the attention as his lover leaned over him stroking his back, tracing the well-defined muscles, his engorged prick knocking gently against Malcolm's backside. Trip ran his thumbs either side of Malcolm's spine all the way down to his tail bone, then parted the cheeks of his arse, making room for his tongue to continue the journey downwards. Finding the tight puckered hole Trip's tongue played fast and loose, alternating between laying down teasing caressing licks across the entrance, and pushing insistently inside. Malcolm's cock began to stir into life again and he wriggled his hips, pushing back towards Trip, asking for more.

The familiar faintly rancid whiff told Malcolm that Trip had opened the tub of grease. His arse tingled in anticipation, eager to be filled. A slick finger traced a path between his cheeks, the feel, the texture of the grease subtly different from their usual lubricant. Malcolm found himself dwelling on the difference, then the finger pushed its way inside, past the tight ring of muscle, and he had other things to think about. A second finger joined the first, then a third and he pressed back against them as they slid out then back in, stretching and preparing him.

Malcolm was hard again and he moved a hand to grasp his cock, kneading it.

Removing his fingers from Malcolm's arse, Trip slicked grease over his cock and positioned himself ready to penetrate his love. He pushed in, his whole length entering in one slow controlled movement. He slid out again, then re-entered. Malcolm settled back against him, wanting Trip as deep inside as he could get.

Trip started to pump in and out in a steady rhythm, one hand reaching to join Malcolm's on his cock, the other a steadying balance on his hip. 'D'ya like that, Mal?' he panted. 'Tell me what it feels like.'

'It's good,' Malcolm gasped. 'I love the way you fill me, hard and hot. You make me feel complete.'

Trip picked up the pace; their joint hands on Malcolm's cock following suit. Malcolm was moaning and whimpering again.

'I love to fuck yer, Mal. T' be inside yer, make yer mine.' Faster still, cock and hands on cock, pumping, pleasuring, loving.

'God, Trip, that's good. I love you. Fuck me harder. Yes. Yes.'

'Yes, Mal. Love yer. That's it, darlin'. Come for me, Malcolm. Fuck, yes, I'm comin'.'

'TRIP.'

'MALCOLM.'

They lay, Malcolm on the hatch, Trip on Malcolm's back, panting, hearts racing, sweat dripping, waiting for control, normality. Shaking, still gasping, Trip ran his fingers through Malcolm's damp hair, pressed hot lips to his neck. 'Lord, that was good. I love you, Mal. Don't tell you often enough, but I do love you.'

'I know, Trip. I know you love me. I love you too.' Malcolm tried to reach behind to grasp Trip's hand. The movement broke the spell and Trip started to slip out of Malcolm's arse. Sitting back on his heels he grabbed a handful of wipes from Malcolm's toolbox, handing some to his love, helping him to clean himself up.

Trip turned Malcolm round, lifted him to sit on the hatch entrance then helped him back into his uniform, leaning in for a kiss before pulling him to his feet.

Malcolm, fully dressed if a little dishevelled, closed the hatch and put his toolbox away while Trip checked the time.

'C'm on,' he said. 'It's ten to midnight.'

'I can't go to the party like this,' Malcolm protested, trying to smooth his crumpled uniform. 'I stink of sex.'

'Jus' the way I like you. I must fuck you at work more often,' Trip teased. 'Come on, no one'll notice. The mess hall's crammed, everyone's hot and sweaty.'

Malcolm allowed himself to be persuaded and they arrived at the mess hall with just enough time to fight their way to the bar and claim a drink before Captain Archer started the countdown to midnight. They were separated in the crush of bodies as the New Year struck and everyone wanted to kiss everyone else and wish them well.

Eventually the flow of people brought them together again and they managed to squeeze into a slightly quieter corner. Trip leaned in for his New Year's kiss. 'Happy New Year, Mal,' he said slipping an arm round his partner's waist, anchoring him in the melee. 'I'm glad the cap'n decided to do this. Celebrate New Years on _Enterprise_. Feels right that we're all together.'

'Yes it does. Happy New Year, luv.' Malcolm hooked his arm round Trip's waist, locking them firmly together. 'It's good to be here among friends. It's good to be home.'


End file.
